


Better the Devil You Know (than the one in your bed)

by HaniTrash



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, First Time, M/M, Murder Husbands Big Bang, S3 Divergence, Timeline Shenanigans, it's that kind of party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-22 11:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21301334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaniTrash/pseuds/HaniTrash
Summary: When Will arrives at Hannibal's house, he finds the man covered in blood and waiting for him. They make their escape to Europe, while Will comes to terms with his feelings for Hannibal. They settle in Florence, and Hannibal takes his position at the Palazzo Capponi. But a Will with nothing to fill his days with is a Will who spends too much time in his own head, and tensions flare between them. To preserve the peace of their home, Hannibal must find creative ways to calm Will. But what will emerge from the chrysalis that Hannibal whispers into?OR: What if Abigail really had died in season one, and what if Will and Hannibal really HAD run off together at the end of Mizumono?OR: What if it WAS that kind of party?(aka, the fic in which I mess with the s3 timeline because I can and can't have Abigail in the way)
Relationships: Anthony Dimmond/Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 30
Kudos: 154
Collections: MHBB2019, Wendigo & Stag





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to the amazing Stagfires for their artwork! be sure to check out their tumblr for more work: https://stagfires.tumblr.com/ and also over on twitter: https://twitter.com/moonstag1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the amazing stagfires for the awesome artwork! This was my first time participating in a Big Bang. I hope you enjoy the story and the art! Also, much love to The_Reverend for her beta work!

Will stared at Hannibal, at the blood staining his clothes, on his face, his hands.

“You were supposed to leave.” His voice was shaking, as was his body. It could have been from the cold, the soaking rain, or the adrenaline, or the sight of Hannibal and his house in such disarray.

Or simply the sight of Hannibal himself, now that Will had finally acknowledged to himself the nature of his feelings toward the man. Will holstered his gun.

“I couldn’t go. Not without you.”

Hannibal reached forward, cupped Will’s cheek, slid his hand around to hold the back of his head.

“Are you ready to disappear now, Will? With me? Now that I have severed the ties that might have held you here?”

Will’s eyes slowly turned to the pantry door behind Hannibal, and the blood flowing out from under it. He knew, without asking, that Jack was behind that door.

“I … I called for help outside. For her.” He couldn’t bring himself to say Alana’s name. “We don’t have long. We have to hurry.”

“A place has already been made for you at my side. You needn’t worry. I have taken care of everything.”

“I … Hannibal, I …” Will searched Hannibal's face, even still, at this moment, unsure of the true extent of the other man’s feelings.

Hannibal pulled Will closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering there longer than was strictly necessary.

“Come, Will. It’s time to leave.”

They went to a nearby storage facility, where Will was dumbfounded to discover a nondescript car, with packed suitcases ready to go, including travel documentation and passports for them both under assumed names. They stripped out of their wet and bloody clothes, and Hannibal doused them in bleach before bagging them and tossing them in the dumpster. It seemed a careless way to dispose of them, and the concern must have been evident on Will’s face because Hannibal finally broke the silence.

“Should this location be discovered, we will be long gone by then. And so will this dumpster.”

“Where are we going?” The plane ticket he’d glimpsed had said Berlin, but he was sure that wasn’t their final destination.

Hannibal studied Will for a moment.

“Does it matter?” he asked, buttoning his shirt.

“I suppose not.” He’d go wherever Hannibal was, he knew that.

Hannibal only gave a slight nod in reply, but Will noticed the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

“Come, Will. Get dressed. We cannot afford any delay. I do not wish to leave you behind, but I will if I must.”

His words spurred Will to movement, and in no time he was seated next to Hannibal as they left Baltimore behind.

***

Will woke as the car slowed to a stop, tires crunching on a gravel driveway.

“We’ll spend the night here, our flight leaves in the afternoon.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” he asked, scrubbing a hand over his face as he sat upright.

“Nothing here is in my name. Including the car we currently sit in. Please, Will. Trust me.”

Something flashed over Hannibal's face, hurt perhaps, maybe sadness, even frustration. Hell, all three together wouldn’t be out of the question, and Will wouldn’t argue any of it. He still had trouble comprehending what he was doing here, why he’d left with Hannibal, warned him in the first place. Why he wasn’t lying in a pool of blood himself on Hannibal’s kitchen floor, why he’d changed his mind—or was it made up his mind finally?—and chosen this path.

On auto-pilot, Will followed Hannibal to the trunk of the car, with only a glance toward the cliff and the ocean beyond. He caught the wince of pain as Hannibal hefted one of the large cases out of the way to grab a smaller overnight bag.

“Here, I’ve got it.” Will reached in, his hand closing over Hannibal's around the handle. “You’re hurt,” he said softly as they stood upright, facing each other, bodies inches apart, joined by the bag in their hands. “You should have said something. I could have driven a while, let you rest.”

“Nothing a hot shower and some acetaminophen won’t remedy. I’ll be fine. But I thank you for your concern.”

“It’s my fault you’re injured. Let me help. Please.”

After a moment, Hannibal relented and led Will into the house. It was surprisingly clean and maintained, and Will speculated that Hannibal had been here recently in anticipation of fleeing Baltimore. Will felt a sudden pang of loss at the thought of everything being left behind: all the artwork, the rare books, things Hannibal had spent years collecting and curating. All abandoned because of Will.

Hannibal seemed to sense Will’s turmoil, because he did not speak more than was necessary for a long while. He pointed out rooms to Will with perfunctory calm, then left him to his own devices while he went to clean himself up. Will wasn’t entirely sure that was the best thing for him at this moment, to be left alone, and he found himself following after Hannibal.

Hannibal appeared to have anticipated Will’s arrival, as he’d left his door wide open, as well as the door to the en-suite bathroom, where he was showering.

Will cleared his throat softly, hovering at the inner doorway, with his back to Hannibal behind the clear glass enclosure.

“Can I help you with something, Will?”

“I...didn’t want to be alone.”

The statement did not appear to be a huge revelation to Hannibal.

“You have made a life-altering decision. One you cannot go back from without extreme consequences. Yet it is a decision that goes against much of what you’ve always told yourself you wanted. You fear what it will change within you.”

“God, can you just stop for one night?” Will ran a hand through his hair in frustration as the water stopped and he heard Hannibal step from the shower with a heavy sigh.

“I am unclear as to what it is you want from me right now, Will. You knew what you were doing when you called me to warn me. You knew what you were doing when you left that house with me. I am the one taking the risk here, letting you see exactly who and what I am, taking you with me when you are clearly still conflicted over _your_ decisions.”

Will was aware that in another life, he’d be angered, incensed by those words. Hannibal was going to turn this around to be about _him_, when Will had just thrown his life away to be with him? But he couldn’t argue with the truth of it. In his current state, he was a liability, an unknown, and Hannibal was taking a huge risk by including him without knowing just how fully committed he was. After all, it’s not like the scheme he and Hannibal had concocted had actually come to fruition. Had Will actually assisted Hannibal with killing Jack, that would be a different scenario, now wouldn’t it? Had things gone according to plan, Hannibal’s side wouldn’t be a giant mass of mottled purple, he wouldn’t have all the injuries that he currently did.

“I thought I knew what I was doing. What I wanted...” he blushed slightly and turned his head away as Hannibal dropped his towel to pull his boxers on, his complete lack of discomfort making _Will_ uncomfortable. “But when I called you, heard your voice, I...I realized something else.”

“And what was that, Will?” Hannibal asked, stepping into Will’s space, close enough that only the slightest gesture would have them touching. Hannibal hadn’t bothered with any other clothing, and while Will had changed into a t-shirt and lounge pants, he felt as though he were the one nearly naked.

Will swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“That I was lying. About what I wanted. Because what I want...it terrifies me.”

“And what do you want, Will?”

He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths in an attempt to keep the impending panic attack at bay. But this was it, wasn’t it? The moment of truth? Hannibal was opening himself to Will, showing him the darkest parts of himself, the truths kept hidden and locked away, and did he have any right to do any less? Didn’t he owe that to the man?

Hannibal’s hand cupped Will’s cheek, as he’d done so often in the past, and Will shuddered, inclined his head ever so slightly into the caress.

“You,” Will whispered.

He opened his eyes just in time to find Hannibal's gaze as their lips met.

Startled, Will jerked back, smashing his head into the door frame. Hannibal said nothing, only raised his eyebrows, an amused glint to his eyes, while he maintained his hold on Will’s face. Will’s chest heaved as he fought for breath, convinced his racing heart was about to burst from his chest.

“Stop thinking,” Hannibal said as he leaned in once again, pressing another soft kiss to Will’s lips. “You worry too much.”

“Sorry,” Will mumbled, dropping his head. “Never done this before.” He glanced at Hannibal before his eyes flitted around the room. “Any of this,” he added, circling his hand in a loose gesture, trying to indicate the entire situation: on the run, hiding out God knew where, kissing another man.

“Shall I stop? I do not want for you to be uncomfortable, Will.”

“Too late for that,” he grumbled, shifting his position in an attempt to accommodate his growing erection.

“Will.”

It was only his name, but the tone and inflection told Will everything. Hannibal tipped his head down, looking up at him through his lashes in that way he had where it was clear he wasn’t buying what Will was selling, and he could tell there was much more that Will _wasn’t_ saying but implying with his comment. And that Will wasn’t going to be able to get away with it. It was the look and tone that said, “I see your bullshit, and I’m calling you on it.” And for the life of him, Will couldn’t figure out why that turned him on.

“I really haven’t,” he said, straightening, gathering his courage. God, what he wouldn’t give for a drink right now. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to explore it.” He exhaled a shaky breath.

“It’s surprisingly similar, you know. The biggest difference is the feel of the body in your arms. Other than that, pleasure is pleasure. Especially when it’s done right.”

Will shuddered at the words, liquid heat suffusing his limbs. He let himself be pulled away from the wall as Hannibal caught his hand.

“Come, Will. It’s time for bed.”


	2. Chapter 2

Will woke to find himself wrapped around Hannibal’s body, his head pillowed on his chest. He was oddly comfortable with that fact, despite the newness of the situation. That they still wore clothing—albeit just boxers—likely helped. Will turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss to the spot above Hannibal’s heart. He received a kiss to the top of his head in response.

“How much time do we have?”

“Enough that we may remain here a few moments longer, if you desire.”

“Hmm.” Will let out a contented sigh. He could easily stay together, like this, in their own little world. In this moment, he felt a peace that he’d never known he could have. Strange, how simply being in Hannibal's presence, feelings acknowledged, could create this. They hadn’t even done anything beyond kissing—and a little dry-humping, as the hard spot on his boxers reminded him—prior to falling asleep, and he’d expected to wake up feeling awkward.

“Will we live near water?”

“Do you want to?”

“I think so. I’d like to be able to still go fishing.”

“Then we will live near water.”

Will had spoken with Hannibal early in the morning, fresh from sleep, in the past. The current heaviness in his voice, the gravelly sound, went deeper than that. Will pushed up onto his elbow and looked at Hannibal. There were creases at the corners of his eyes that he hadn’t noticed before, a general tiredness that he’d never seen from the seemingly indestructible man.

“Did you not sleep?”

“Not much. I’ll be okay, no need to worry.”

Will swallowed.

“Afraid I’d change my mind and run off in the middle of the night?”

Hannibal's lips pressed together in a firm line, and Will knew he was right. He shifted to straddle Hannibal's body, pinning him to the mattress.

“I am not leaving you, Hannibal. Please promise me you’ll sleep on the plane.”

He nodded his head once, just a small dip of his chin, but Will took it for agreement. Will sighed and closed his eyes, though he didn’t move from his position atop Hannibal.

“I know that I have to prove myself to you again.” Will opened his eyes and held Hannibal’s gaze, noting the bloodshot haze of red to the orbs, the darkness of the irises. “After all, I was betting on both teams. I need to convince you that I’m on your team and your team alone from here on out. I understand that will take a while. But _please_, take care of yourself. Don’t suffer on my account.”

Hannibal's lips twitched into a sad smile.

“You’ve always seen so much of me, Will. Even when I didn’t want you to.”

“How can I help you this morning?”

“You already have,” Hannibal replied, placing his hand over Will’s heart. “But perhaps, you could fix us something to eat, to allow me time to meditate?”

“Of course. How long do you need?”

“Only about thirty minutes or so. I find that my body is already...relaxed at the moment, so it won’t take long.”

“Hmm. You don’t _feel_ relaxed.” Will smirked as he shifted his hips slightly, rubbing over Hannibal's hard cock.

Hannibal made a small noise in the back of his throat, a bit of a stifled growl.

“True. And neither do you. But meditation would benefit me more than other activities at the moment. The goal is for me to become energized and awake, not more relaxed and sleepy.”

Will laughed as he leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to Hannibal's lips.

“Have it your way, then. Do you have a normal coffee machine here? Or do I need an engineering degree to operate it?”

“Given your strong fondness of the beverage, I have the utmost faith in your abilities to produce a drinkable result.”

“Oh that sounds reassuring.” He slid from Hannibal with a stupid grin on his face, snatching the first pair of pants he saw on his way out the door.

He was pleasantly surprised to discover a very normal, though very high end, coffee brewer and espresso machine that he was able to figure out with only mild irritation. As the aroma of fresh ground beans filled the room, Will rummaged through the fridge and freezer. He was _genuinely_ surprised to find not a single item that appeared to be of questionable origin, though upon reflection, it made sense. Hannibal certainly wouldn’t just keep a stash of people pops in his freezer if he wasn’t here very often.

The drive to the airport was quicker than expected, which was good because the closer they got, the more nervous Will became. It was an international airport, and twelve full hours had already passed since they’d left Hannibal's house. That was an eternity in FBI time, especially with Prurnell on their asses and the mess they’d left behind.

When they landed in Berlin and _weren’t_ met on the plane by agents he relaxed only slightly. They cleared customs, and he breathed a little easier. Hannibal burned their passports and produced new ones, bought them train tickets in cash, and then burned those passports when they arrived in Vienna.

They finally arrived in Florence a full week after landing in Berlin, with no sign of pursuit, and Will eventually began to relax. After a month, he actually dropped his guard enough to venture out of their villa during the day. All of this amused Hannibal greatly, of course, but he let Will take his time to come to terms with his new life.

“I think I shall find employment, now that you’re more settled.”

Will choked on his wine, nearly ruining the splendid dinner Hannibal had prepared for them. He swallowed and looked pointedly down at the plate in front of him before meeting Hannibal’s eyes. If the meat had a slightly distinctive flavor to it, he hadn’t acknowledged it beyond the single lingering look he’d shared with Hannibal at his first bite.

“And where would this employment be?” he asked, tipping his head ever so slightly to indicate the meal. The fact that Hannibal hadn’t killed anyone to Will’s knowledge since their arrival couldn’t be ignored. The sudden announcement, combined with the reappearance of a particular cut of meat on Will’s plate, were hardly coincidental in Hannibal's world.

“A position has opened up curating at the library. I am more than qualified for the position on my own merits. While we were in Paris, I arranged for a suitable identification that I may avail myself of for such an academic opportunity.”

Will sat back in the chair, elbows on the arm rests, rubbing two fingertips over his bottom lip.

“You killed someone while we were in Paris.”

Hannibal swallowed and set down his fork.

“I did.”

“We were only there for two days.”

Hannibal is the first to break eye contact as he reached for his wine.

Will sighed, closed his eyes, and rubbed his forehead.

“Okay. So what am I to call you now?”

“What you have been calling me since we left Paris. Dr. Roman Fell.”

***

Will drank perhaps a bit more than he should have after dinner. But as Hannibal had been behaving, so had Will, and he’d been drinking far less than usual since their arrival in Florence. But the scotch tasted better than it had in a while—thanks in no small part to Hannibal's expensive taste—and there were things Will didn’t want to think about.

“I have found a peace here with you, Will. One I do not wish to tarnish. Tell me, what troubles you tonight? How can I help you? You’ve spoken barely a word since dinner.”

Hannibal stood close behind Will at the balcony’s edge, adding another two fingers’ worth of Talisker to the tumbler in Will’s hand. Will leaned back into him, resting his head on Hannibal's shoulder.

“I guess I thought you’d stop killing once we ran away together. Naive, I know. Perhaps idealistic.” He chased the confession with a large swallow from his glass.

“Not entirely wrong, though.” He felt Hannibal's smile as he pressed a kiss to Will’s temple. They had yet to cross the final threshold of a sexual relationship, but their intimacy had grown more comfortable, more natural, and they had yet to spend a night in separate rooms.

Will sighed heavily.

“You wouldn’t be who you are if you stopped. I was lying to myself, wanting it to be true. I’ve changed you, yes, but I know now that I don’t want you to change completely. You wouldn’t be the man I—the man I know if you did,” Will caught himself, but didn’t pretend that Hannibal hadn’t noticed. He’d felt the reaction, the way his arm had tightened just a fraction around Will’s waist, or the way he’d held his breath for second until Will had finished speaking.

“Yes, Will. You have changed me. I never expected to find in another person the connection you and I share. Just as I have changed you. The person I met would never be here willingly, dare I say, enthusiastically, and so relaxed.”

“You certainly made me acknowledge and embrace parts of myself I’d always denied existed. But we definitely took a fucked up path to get here.” Will fell silent, draining his glass as he tried not to think about the times they’d made attempts on each others’ lives, or the time he’d spent in prison.

Hannibal took the glass from him, added more scotch, and then drank it himself.

“I will admit to having made mistakes. I acted rashly out of my fear.”

“Fear?”

That caught Will’s attention, and he craned his head to look up at Hannibal, brows raised in genuine surprise.

“I didn’t think anything scared you.”

“On the contrary. _You_ scared me. Or, to be more precise, my reaction to you. I was drawn to you, saw the potentiality for what we have now, and the thought of letting someone see me as I have let you do led me to act in terrible ways with you.” Hannibal took another drink before meeting Will’s gaze. “But then again, who knows if you’d have reached your full potential if I’d made different choices?”

“And have I? Reached my full potential, as you say?”

Hannibal’s head tipped a bit to the side, a slight nod in the negative.

“We both know what the form of your final becoming must take. You haven’t made the last step, but you are poised at the threshold.”

“You sound pretty confident that it’ll happen.”

“You are here. I do not believe you would be otherwise.”

Will hummed, not sure what to make of that. He knew, deep down, that Hannibal was right. His toes were definitely at the edge of that line, and it wouldn’t take much for him to step over. He just hadn’t had a good reason to yet.

“Too content right now, I guess. We’ll see what happens if that changes.”

Too late, he realized he was verbally issuing Hannibal a challenge. He’d blame the excellent scotch, but if he was being honest with himself, he _wanted_ Hannibal to force his hand. Why should things change now? Why should Will have to make that last step all alone, when he’d gotten there by holding Hannibal's hand? No, if Hannibal wanted this last bit of him, then he’d have to take it.

The fact that Will was so indifferent about the line’s existence and his crossing of it didn’t terrify him the way it once had. That in itself should have terrified him. But there was a certain thrill to giving into those dark impulses and feelings, knowing that the person by your side reveled in it as much as you did.

“Would you be upset if that never happens?” Will asked, just for the sake of playing devil’s advocate, and took another drink to hide his smile. Absently, he noted that the bottle, full when he’d brought it out there, was quickly nearing the bottom, and wondered how much Hannibal had drunk when he wasn’t paying attention. Which begged the question, since when did Hannibal match Will drink for drink where hard liquor was concerned? What was he steeling himself for?

“I will not deny that I wish to see you bathed in another’s blood, spilled by your own eager hand.” Hannibal’s breath came hot in Will’s ear, the effect that that mental image had on Hannibal clearly evident in the way his hips pressed into Will at the words. “To see you in all your glory, finally come unto yourself, that is all I want for you.” Sharp teeth nipped at his earlobe, teased at his neck. “I want you to be happy. At peace.”

Heat spread through Will’s body, only partly due to the alcohol.

The fantasy did have some appeal, after all.

“I am happy. Here. With you.” He tipped his head to the side, giving Hannibal better access to his neck as his chest heaved. After a moment broken only by the sound of their heavy breathing, Will spoke again.

“You were worried I was upset.”

“I was.” It wasn’t a question, but Hannibal answered it as such regardless.

“About the job or the killing?”

“Both.”

Will turned his face to Hannibal’s, caught his lips for a kiss.

“I’m _concerned_ about the first, but I trust that you have thought this through and won’t jeopardize our situation. As for the second, well, we’ve already discussed that.”

“I’d have abandoned my plans if you’d asked me to.” One hand threaded through the hair at Will’s crown and tugged his head back so that he was looking at the stars. Hannibal sucked at Will’s throat just below his Adam’s apple. His need for Will, his desire to consume him in all ways save one—Will had no doubt that he was permanently removed from the menu_—_was a palpable force tonight, and Will decided that he liked this side of Hannibal—uncontrolled, open, disinhibited from the uncharacteristic amount of alcohol he’d consumed. To know that his concern over Will’s response was the reason for it, to know that he truly was Hannibal's Achilles Heel, was an overwhelming and powerful feeling.

“Information I promise to use carefully,” he gasped, writhing against Hannibal's body. A moan escaped him when Hannibal's free hand slid down to cup Will’s groin. Will returned the favor, slipping a hand back between them to rub Hannibal's equally hard erection.

“Hannibal,” he panted, and the man licked along Will’s jaw.

“Take me to bed.”

Hannibal grunted, pushing himself into Will’s hand before loosening the grip on his hair and stepping away. Will was instantly cold at the loss of contact and he turned immediately to head inside, pausing only when he saw Hannibal with the bottle—the _eight thousand dollar bottle of scotch—_to his lips. A gasp escaped him at the sight of such a vulgar act from this man. Hannibal let the arm holding the bottle drop and stepped in, grasping Will roughly by the chin with his free hand.

“I would do anything for you,” he rasped, his accent thick, before claiming Will with a brutal kiss.

Will’s hands curled tightly into Hannibal’s shirt at his sides, tugging the material free.

“Then take me to bed,” he repeated, the words pregnant with promise, with implication, with offering of himself, as he dragged his nails down Hannibal's back.

The deep, animalistic growl that came from Hannibal would have been terrifying in a different situation. The bottle was pressed to Will’s lips and he obligingly drank the last few mouthfuls before Hannibal tossed it aside. The sound of the shattering glass was accompanied by the rending of fabric as he ripped at Will’s shirt.

A trail of clothing and disrupted furniture followed them as they stumbled to the bedroom. Will fell onto his back, and immediately Hannibal's mouth was on him, taking him deep as Will exhaled a shaky breath. It felt amazing, as always, but tonight it wasn’t enough.

“Hannibal,” he groaned, running his fingers through the long hair now falling over the man’s brow. He hummed in response, not ceasing his movements.

“Hannibal,” Will repeated, tugging at the hair he held.

“I want more.”

Dark eyes looked up at him as he nipped at Will’s thigh.

Hannibal's breath caught as he waited, even now forcing Will’s hand, making him say it.

“I want it all.”

It could have been the scotch they’d consumed doing the talking, loosening his tongue to push out the words he’d been holding back for days in some unnamed fear. It could have been the feeling of some last unseen wall being knocked down between them during their earlier conversation. Hell, it could even have been the full moon, for all he knew. But as he watched Hannibal's eyes dilate further, saw the almost feral look overtake his features, the anticipation sent his heart racing and he knew it was time.

Hannibal's hands slid down from Will’s hips to under his thighs, spreading his legs up and apart. For a split second, Will feared that he’d do this without any preparation, but instead of moving up, Hannibal slid further down between his legs. He licked the underside of Will’s shaft, then slowly but clearly telegraphed his intent as he licked and kissed his way to the tight ring of muscle.

Will gasped at the sensation, grabbing onto the headboard to keep from jerking away. Hannibal pressed in, bending Will’s legs back, opening him up more and driving his tongue inside.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes closed and head thrown back.

Hannibal continued the assault with his tongue, teasing along the rim, sucking over the opening, driving his tongue in and out until the sounds coming from Will’s mouth were mere whimpers and pants and he was perched on the edge of orgasm from this act alone.

The sudden loss of contact was jarring and Will’s eyes flew open as Hannibal's weight left him. He watched as Hannibal retrieved a bottle of lube from his nightstand with shaky hands. His control appeared to be tenuous at best, and when he resettled between Will’s knees there was a fierce determination in his eyes that Will knew well.

Hannibal flicked open the bottle and lubed up two fingers that he immediately set to teasing around Will’s hole before he slid first one and then the other in.

“_Oh,_” Will gasped, breathing through the discomfort and slight pain. After a few gentle movements, Hannibal began working his hand in earnest and Will quickly felt the tingling once more as he neared orgasm. Inside him, Hannibal’s fingers curled and pressed on his prostate and Will cried out as he flew over the edge.

Hannibal’s hand disappeared and Will felt his cock press against him, felt the heat of his body as he knelt close. He forced himself to open his eyes, and watching Hannibal watch _himself_ as he pushed inside of Will for the first time was nearly enough to send Will back over despite being so recently spent.

Hannibal shuddered as he seated himself fully. Will arched his back, sliding his legs around Hannibal's, high up on his thighs. Hannibal’s jaw clenched and he gripped Will’s hips painfully tight.

“Wait,” he ground out.

“Move, damn it,” Will panted. “I’ve waited long enough for the courage to do this.”

“Will,” Hannibal groaned, and it sounded almost like a plea. Slowly, he pulled back and slid home again, and they groaned in unison.

“Yes. More.”

“Fuck, Will, _mio Dio,_ please, _Aš negaliu_...let me...”

Will wasn’t sure what Hannibal had said and didn’t care. All he cared about was how it felt, how amazing it was, to have Han nibal's cock inside him, and to see  how affected by it Hannibal was as well. 

“More,” he said again, and Hannibal fell forward, one hand joining Will’s on the headboard, the other cupping his neck.

“You’ll be the death of me yet, won’t you?” he asked, not waiting for an answer before kissing him reverently. He rolled his hips and Will rocked up to meet him. It was far gentler, far more tender, than Will had expected, and he knew Hannibal was telling him significantly more with his actions than he was with his words. Somehow, he was certain that Hannibal was telling him—showing him?—things he’d never told another person, and that knowledge was more intoxicating than the liquor.

“Hmm, I suppose that depends on how often I can get you drunk,” Will replied, confident in the belief that the whisky was to thank for the destruction of Hannibal’s heavily fortified walls.

“Anything for you.” He repeated his earlier words, and Will heard the underlying meaning. Hannibal's hand slid down between them to stroke Will and bring him back to life. It didn’t take long before he was panting and clutching at Hannibal, coating their stomachs with his come. A few hard thrusts later Hannibal's breath stuttered as he came, and words whispered with barely enough air to give them sound reached Will’s ear from where they were spoken against his chest.

“ _Aš tave myliu_ .”

Will held Hannibal tight and pressed a breathless kiss to the top of his head.

“I know, Hannibal. I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

Will stood at Hannibal’s side as the smug look on Professor Sogliato’s face spread. He took a half step forward before the light pressure of Hannibal's hand on his arm stayed him. Jaw clenched, he met Hannibal’s eyes, seeing his own outrage mirrored there for a split second before Hannibal schooled his expression. With the most miniscule of winks, Hannibal stepped forward and began speaking, reciting in what Will could only assume was medieval Italian.

“I am happy to sing for my supper,” Hannibal concluded as the wife of one of the other professors pulled Sogliato away for a dance. Will was still seething, despite how well Hannibal had smacked the man down, and he found himself looking forward to the meal Hannibal would prepare of the pompous little prick. He’d happily be the one to remove his arrogant tongue for the dish.

Hannibal turned to the cheers and embraces of the other members of the _studiolo_, sharing a knowing look with Will over their heads. Will found himself chewing his bottom lip as he let the lust wash over him—lust both for Hannibal and for the thrill of the anticipated demise of Sogliato. He lifted a champagne flute from a passing tray and sipped at it as he watched Hannibal in his element. He had to admit, the man knew what he was talking about.

Will caught Hannibal's eye and nodded towards the restroom. A minute later, he was slamming Hannibal up against the door as he locked it.

“Tell me,” Hannibal encouraged.

“That was...” Will began. “I wanted so badly to hit him. God, how do you do it?” He kissed Hannibal roughly. “When can we leave?”

An amused laugh came from Hannibal as he turned them, palming Will over the expensive fabric of the tuxedo he’d bought for him.

“As entertaining as it would be to leave you in such a state, perhaps I can assist you?” Hannibal fell to his knees before him and made short work of freeing his cock.

“Fuck, Ha—” he caught himself, and stared down at the surreal sight. _Hannibal is giving me a blowjob in a public bathroom._ The absurdity of the situation, that _this man_ would have willingly just gone to his knees _in public_ for Will...the entirety of it was exhilarating.

Will covered his mouth with his hand, biting down hard on the fleshy pad of his palm when he came.

“Will you kill him?” he asked, breathless, as Hannibal re-dressed him.

Hannibal studied Will a moment before answering, making sure Will’s tux was impeccable.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” he replied immediately, with no hesitation.

A satisfied grin curved one side of Hannibal's mouth.

“Believe me when I tell you I have been planning his demise for days. The man has truly appalling manners. However, we must be careful, yes?”

Will heaved a breath, trying to calm the rushing of his blood.

“I know,” he acknowledged, and pulled Hannibal in for a kiss. “Go back to your adoring fans. I’ll be along in a minute. _Doctor Fell._”

*****

They are scarcely inside the apartment, jackets only just removed, and Hannibal is on him.

“You are such a wicked man,” he says, teeth scraping along Will’s neck.

“And you love it,” Will teases.

Hannibal hummed and sucked a mark over Will’s collarbone.

“The things I do for you...”

“Mmm...I must admit I was quite surprised at your earlier actions.”

Hannibal cupped him roughly through his pants as the edge of the counter pressed into his lower back. Will had been planning to start some coffee while they changed their clothes, but clearly Hannibal had other ideas.

“I seem to have awakened quite the animal within you,” Hannibal commented.

“Not so much awakened as nourished, I think.”

Hannibal was correct, though, as he usually was. Will himself was surprised at times at how he reacted and responded to Hannibal. In the short time they’d been enjoying a fully sexual relationship, Will’s own libido had startled him, not to mention the intensity with which Hannibal reciprocated. It was as if all his formidable self-control dissipated in Will’s presence, and when they collided, it still overwhelmed Will’s senses, and a deeper, more primal part of Will’s brain took over.

“Have I told you how pleasing you looked tonight?”

Will couldn’t help but laugh at the word choice.

“_Pleasing?_” he teased.

Hannibal pulled back, one hand firm on Will’s jaw and the close-cropped beard he’d grown.

“Good enough to eat,” he growled.

“Well, I should hope so. You picked the tux.”

Hannibal's eyes narrowed and he glared at Will for a moment.

Will grinned, knowing full well the effect his taunting would have on Hannibal. He knew he was the only person who could get away with speaking to Hannibal the way he did and still live to do it another day.

“I’m glad you were _pleased_ with the results. I’ve never had such nice clothing. I believe I should thank you properly, shouldn’t I?”

Hannibal’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath.

“Get this off before I rip it from your body.”

A shiver of anticipation raised the hair on Will’s arms. He decided to push.

“You wouldn’t.”

Hannibal had paid nearly a thousand dollars for the custom made tux for Will. Surely, he wouldn’t throw that kind of money away?

“No?” Hannibal asked, a dangerous edge to his voice that set Will on fire. His eyes flicked down to Will’s chest, where Will had undone the first two buttons of his shirt on the ride home. Lighting quick, Hannibal grabbed the material where it hung open and gave a sharp pull, popping several buttons free.

Will gasped.

“Now,” Hannibal ground out.

Pushing his luck, Will cocked an eyebrow.

“Buttons can be resewn.”

“_Will._”

Will closed his eyes for several breaths, before committing himself to what he wanted. The warning, the promise laden in the way Hannibal had said his name, only served to push Will’s need higher.

When he opened his eyes again he found Hannibal studying him.

“I’m waiting,” Hannibal said.

“So am I,” Will replied, steeling himself.

Hannibal hissed as he bent low, surprising Will by catching him in the stomach with his shoulder and lifting. Hannibal barely staggered as he steadied Will over his shoulder, arms caging his legs, and stormed for the bedroom. He dumped Will unceremoniously onto the bed and stood over him, chest heaving. In his hand, he held a knife that Will hadn’t seen him grab from the kitchen.

Will’s heart began to race as Hannibal bent over him. He knew how sharp those knives were kept. Hannibal slid the blade inside his pant leg at his ankle and lifted, pulling the fabric taut. He held Will’s eyes as he brought the knife up, the tip grazing along the inside of his thigh as he reached Will’s waist. Cool air greeted his leg as the material fell in a whisper from the metal. Hannibal repeated the process on Will’s other leg and Will was achingly hard by the time he was done.

“Wicked, wicked man,” Hannibal admonished, tapping the flat of the blade against Will’s cock. Will answered with a moan, his head falling back to the mattress. Two more quick flicks and his boxers were liberated from his body as well.

“What’s to be done about your behavior tonight, Will? Hmm?”

Will bit his bottom lip hard enough that he was sure he’d draw blood. Hannibal's gaze zeroed in on Will’s mouth as he spoke.

“And what grievous sins have I committed tonight?” he asked, not entirely sure what Hannibal's answer would be.

“Nearly caused a scene at the banquet. Threw yourself at me in the bathroom. And now, taunting me, forcing my hand to destroy something I gave you.” Hannibal is listing things off as though he’s reading down a checklist, as if he’s truly angered by Will, but Will could see the hard length of Hannibal's cock as it strained against the front of his pants, the flare of his nostrils, and the wide dilation to his pupils. Hannibal was as turned on by this as Will.

Hannibal trailed the tip of the knife along Will’s hips, down the insides of his thighs, and across his abdomen. Will’s cock twitched in response, and he let out a soft whimper.

With measured slowness, Hannibal rose from the bed and removed his clothing, taking care to neatly fold and drape his pants and shirt over the dressing rack. Will knew better than to make any movement of his own, though he was curious what Hannibal would do if he did.

Hannibal assessed Will as he lay on the bed now with only his ruined dress shirt hanging from him.

“Over,” he commanded, and Will rolled to his stomach.

Hannibal returned to the bed, kneeling over Will, caging his legs. Hannibal’s cock nestled against his ass, slick with lube. The knife returned, and the luxurious shirt was sliced down the back, ripped from Will’s body and off his arms.

“Wicked man,” Hannibal admonished once more, and Will felt another spike of desire course through him. A solid _thunking_ sound snapped Will’s head up, and he saw the knife sticking out of the headboard. His hips were jerked up, and Hannibal's cock pressed against him. Will cried out as Hannibal thrust into him, forced his way in without lubing up Will as well first.

“Tell me, Will. Shall I be forced to leave you at home from now on? Will I be unable to share my accomplishments with you, for fear that you will cause a scene, jeopardize our life here?” Hannibal maintained a relentless rhythm as he spoke, punctuating his words with punishing thrusts.

Will could only moan in response, face buried in the mattress, as he clutched at the bedding. It was a violent joining, Will being manhandled as Hannibal abused his hole, not once caring for Will’s pleasure, only seeking his own, and Will loved every second of it.

“After everything I’ve done for you. Given you. Given _up_ for you.”

Whether he meant to or not, Hannibal's thrusts provide just the right amount of pressure against Will’s prostate that before he knows it, he’s coming, hard, and Hannibal keeps right on going, heedless of Will’s cries.

At last, Hannibal comes with a guttural moan, fingers crushing Will’s hips hard enough that Will expects he’ll have bruises.

Hannibal collapsed to the bed next to him, and Will’s eyes fluttered open.

“Mmm, that was perfect. Thank you.”

Hannibal tipped his head toward Will, one eye opened, brow raised in silent question.

“I’m sorry about the tux, though. Really. I’ll make it up to you somehow. I didn’t expect you to go through with it. But once you started...” Will trailed off, leaving it to Hannibal to finish the thought.

“If you wanted me to be rougher with you, you only needed to ask. Is that what you were looking for? Why you pushed me?”

“No,” Will said with a quick shake of his head. “Wouldn’t have been the same. Not if it was planned.”

“You liked the threat of it, the hint of danger.”

“Yes,” Will whispered, eyes closed.

“Have you grown too content, Will?”

Will rolled to his side to face Hannibal.

“Perhaps. I think I miss the violence.”

Hannibal was silent for a few moments as he processed the admission.

“I do hope I didn’t hurt you too much,” he said as he reached forward and pulled Will close, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Will shrugged.

“I’ll be okay. It was what I asked for, what I wanted.”

Hannibal hummed a thoughtful noise as he wrapped his arm around Will’s shoulders and tucked him close.

“I suppose this explains your behavior as of late.”

“Sorry,” Will mumbled from his position against Hannibal's chest. He liked being this close to the other man. The steady cadence of his heartbeat soothed Will. “I was trying. Didn’t want to bother you while you were getting settled with work.”

“You are never a bother to me, Will.”

Will snuggled in closer in response, trying to burrow his way into Hannibal, let himself be consumed by him as the endorphin haze faded.

“Will you help me?” he whispered at last, sure Hannibal had fallen asleep.

“Always,” came the immediate reply. “Now sleep, Will.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Why have you invited him for dinner?” Will was angry, outraged that Hannibal was being _nice _to Sogliato.

“Will. I thought you understood me better than this.”

“I know, I know. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and all that nonsense. He’s _rude_, Hannibal.”

“That he is.”

“Even by _my _standards. _I _don’t like the man, and that’s saying something.”

“I am not arguing with you.”

Hannibal's calmness was only feeding Will’s ire. The thought of that man being in their _home_ incensed him in ways he couldn’t explain. He took a deep breath and held it, releasing it on a heavy sigh. Hannibal had won the position fair and square, Will knew that. He’d been at the presentation. He’d seen their enthusiastic response. He didn’t know what else Hannibal needed to prove to the man. Will stopped his pacing to stand beside Hannibal, his back against the counter, so he could face him.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?”

Hannibal looked up from the meat he was carving, brows raised, but said nothing.

“You’re gloating. That’s what this is. You’re rubbing it in his face.”

“Are you attending dinner tonight or not, Will? How much am I to prepare?”

Will sighed again and placed his hand over Hannibal's, stilling his motions. Gently, he slipped the knife from his grasp and insinuated himself between Hannibal and his work.

“I will be here. You know I will. For you.”

Hannibal closed his eyes and exhaled as he pressed a kiss to Will’s forehead.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Will asked, his face buried in Hannibal's chest.

“Would you mind terribly if I sent you to the store for a few last-minute ingredients?”

“Of course not. Tell me what you need and where to get it.”

*****

Will sat across from Sogliato, regarding him in silence as Hannibal chipped away at the block of ice.

“The _Studiolo_ is a small, fierce group. They have ruined a number of academic reputations,” Hannibal said.

“Appearing before them is a peril,” Sogliato replied, and Will wasn’t sure what his point was, since everything had gone so well.

“You were very eager to see me discredited, Professor Sogliato,” Hannibal intoned, with a meaningful look.

Sogliato chuckled, and Will ground his teeth to remain silent.

“You sang for your supper, before the dragons at the _Studiolo_.” Sogliato popped a slice of meat into his mouth.

“And you sang very well,” Will interjected with a warm smile at Hannibal.

“Hm!” came from Sogliato. “First applause,” he said, clapping, “and then by wet-eyed acclamation,” he continued, the condescension nearly dripping from his words, “the members confirmed you as master of Palazzo Capponi.” He looked down and to the side, as if he did not agree but didn’t want to show it.

Will toyed with the napkin in his lap and wondered briefly if it was long enough, if he could get enough leverage and pressure with it to strangle the prick across from him.

“Punch Romaine,” Hannibal announced as he served the cocktails he’d been preparing. “Served to the first class guests on the Titanic during their last dinner.”

Will caught the look Hannibal gave him and had to look away, his gaze drifting over Sogliato as he did so. He didn’t hide the slight smile that ghosted across his lips as he stared out the window at the sunset while Hannibal continued speaking. Will tuned him out as he let his mind wander, trying to imagine what plans Hannibal had in store for the evening after all. The sound of choking brought his attention back to the present, and he jumped, startled to see the ice pick jammed soundly into the side of Sogliato’s head.

“Jesus, Hannibal!” Will exclaimed.

Hannibal sighed from his seat at the head of the table.

“That may have been impulsive.”

“You think? Christ, I thought I was the one with impulse control issues.”

Across from him, Sogliato continued to sputter, a combination of words, laughter, coughs, and choking noises coming from him as he sat upright, twitching in the chair. Hannibal continued to chew pensively. Will felt his heart rate begin to soar as his breathing became shallow and rapid. He recognized the fact that he was about to hyperventilate or have a panic attack, and rather preferred the first option. The longer Sogliato sat there making those noises, staring blankly ahead, the more likely Will was to lose it. He was sure Hannibal knew that.

In that moment, he knew Hannibal was standing beside that line with him, waiting to see what he’d do. Waiting to see if Will would jump or if he’d need to be pushed. Will closed his eyes and brought a shaky hand to his face. _It’s a small step, _he told himself. _Just take one little baby step. You don’t really care about the line, anyway. And you hate this man. He practically gift wrapped him for you. _And perhaps that was the crux of the dilemma, the reason for his hesitation.

It was _too _easy.

But regardless, he couldn’t listen to the noises any longer. He’d been prepared for a clean death. Which realistically didn’t make sense, because the Ripper was not always neat. He was showy and ostentatious. Honestly, what had Will really expected? Will swallowed hard and stood, making his way around the table while Hannibal appeared to remain disinterested and continued eating, though Will knew the man was watching his every move.

Will stood behind Sogliato, staring down at the handle of the ice pick. His vision narrowed until that was the only item in his sight, the metal calling out to him as he lifted his arm. His fingers came into view and he paused, his hand hovering in the air over the handle. With one swift motion, he grabbed the handle and yanked it out. It worked, Sogliato stopped making those noises. Or any noise at all, actually, as the blood began running from the wound and he flopped forward immediately.

Blood quickly filled the bowl he landed in and overflowed onto the table, spreading across the tablecloth and dripping down onto the floor.

“Technically,” Hannibal began.

“You think I don’t know that?” Will snapped back.

Hannibal stood behind him and pulled the ice pick from Will’s trembling hand.

“How do you feel?” he asked as he placed it on the table.

Will’s heart still raced, and he felt a cold sweat across his face.

“Like I’m gonna puke,” he mumbled. Hannibal's hands gently turned him away from the scene on their table and cupped his face, forcing his gaze up to meet Hannibal’s.

“Go get some fresh air. I shall attend to the mess.”

He nodded mutely and staggered for the balcony. Hannibal brought out a bottle of scotch and a glass for Will and pressed a kiss to his forehead before going back inside.

After a length of time—Will lost all track of it as he stared at the stars emerging in the night sky—Hannibal joined him with a small plate of food.

“You should eat something. I’m afraid I ruined dinner, I’m sorry. I acted rashly.”

“No you’re not.” Will’s tone was flat, even, with only the slightest hint of accusation to it.

“No?”

“No.”

Hannibal sighed heavily and sat next to Will on the lounge, but remained surprisingly quiet.

“I’m sorry I failed your test,” Will said quietly.

“You didn’t.”

“No?”

“No. It went more or less how I expected.”

“Did you have to do it _here_?”

Hannibal simply looked at Will expectantly, and didn’t answer.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Will acknowledged. “Not like I reacted well afterwards.”

“You reacted...in a manner that I had anticipated.”

“Which means not how you wanted.”

“Perhaps not how I’d hoped, but still...satisfactorily.”

Will snorted.

“Passed with a _C-minus_ then.”

Hannibal paused with his glass at his lips.

“A _C-plus,_” he said, taking a drink.

A startled laugh escaped Will, and he felt a bit better.

“You and I are similar, but not the same. You are coming into this much later in life than I did. It is to be expected that you should still experience a bit of hesitation, some conflict, when faced with the reality of your actions.”

Will eyed Hannibal. He was feeling extremely vulnerable at the moment, unsure of where he stood with the other man. It was a feeling that he disliked greatly. Hannibal turned, placing his back against the arm of the lounge and spread his legs so that he had one foot to each side.

“Come here, Will,” he said, arms spread wide.

Will scrambled into Hannibal's embrace, surprising himself still with how clingy he could be at times. He’d never realized just how touch-starved he was, how much he craved being comforted, until he’d been living with Hannibal. He tucked his head into Hannibal's neck, burrowing into his warmth.

“Is there anything left to do inside? Do you need help?”

“Not at the moment. The body is in the cold storage in the basement. The soiled linens are bagged and ready to be burned. The room is clean, although it needs to air out overnight from the chemical fumes. Tomorrow, we’ll buy another tablecloth and settings.” Hannibal's hand rubbed smoothly up and down his back. At the mention of the fumes, Will realized that Hannibal had changed his clothes, and he wondered if that meant another outfit ruined.

“I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologize for, Will.”

“I feel like all I do is make you spend money on things. Like I contribute nothing to our life here, and just take from you.”

Hannibal's hand stilled on his back, and Will felt him swallow hard before speaking.

“Do you think that I do not enjoy taking care of that which is mine?”

“I think I don’t know how I feel about being a kept man,” Will replied, only half teasing.

Hannibal threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and gently pulled Will back so that he could see his face.

“Know this, Will. I would spend any sum of money, or throw every cent away if you so desired, if it meant keeping you by my side and happy. Not out of pride. Not out of ego. But because I love you. If I never saw you again, I would remember this night, this moment, forever. Your very existence pleases me. Your actions, your touches, are gifts that I will cherish always.”

Will stared at Hannibal, frozen in disbelief.

“Breathe, Will,” Hannibal murmured, and that broke the spell. Will surged forward, capturing Hannibal’s mouth in a fierce kiss. When at last they parted, he found himself straddling Hannibal's lap.

“Say it again,” he breathed into Hannibal's mouth.

“I love you,” Hannibal said, nipping at Will’s bottom lip.

“I love you,” he repeated, dragging his cheek against the stubble on Will’s.

“I love you,” he whispered, licking the shell of Will’s ear.

Will shuddered in Hannibal's arms. He arched his back, rolling his hips, and Hannibal shifted his weight until Will was laying on the lounge, his legs locked around Hannibal's waist as they rocked together. He reached between them and fumbled with the button on Hannibal's pants, while Hannibal tugged at Will’s pants until they were both free. Will groaned at the contact, the searing heat of Hannibal's cock rubbing against his.

“Will,” Hannibal gasped, one hand digging into Will’s hip as he tried to slow Will’s pace.

“Hannibal,” he replied, just as desperately, his own hand grabbing the back of Hannibal's head and pulling the hair tightly.

“I love you,” Will said, staring into Hannibal's eyes. His lids fluttered at Will’s words and a groan rumbled deep in his chest as he came, his come coating Will’s shirt and stomach. Will followed, his own seed spilling hot between them.

They lay together, Hannibal bracing most of his weight on his arms to either side of Will’s head, as their breathing calmed and their heartbeats settled.

“What will you make of him?” Will asked.

“I don’t exactly know, to be honest. I hadn’t decided yet.”

Will looked up at Hannibal.

“Well, whatever it is, we’re definitely eating his tongue.”


	5. Chapter 5

They didn’t say the words again.

It was weird, Will thought, to love someone so completely, and never feel the need to tell them. Not that he needed to hear the words to know how Hannibal felt. His love was evidenced in a thousand little ways each day. The coffee he always woke to, waiting on the night stand. The clothes he wore, selected with such care as they spent hours in fitting rooms and with tailors. The unquestioning trust in Will’s continued presence, despite being left to his own devices all day.

Perhaps it was all that free time that was Will’s problem.

He wasn’t sleeping well again, and was trying his damnedest to not slip back into old habits of drinking himself into oblivion just to get a rest from the nightmares.

And it wasn’t like he had much work to do to keep the place clean or their clothes laundered, or the scant shopping that Hannibal didn’t do himself.

Will rose from the couch where he’d spent the night. It was early still, the sky outside the windows was not the full dark of night, but the sun had not made it’s way over the horizon yet. His foot made contact with the empty bottle on the floor and he sighed as he picked it up and brought it with him to the kitchen. He started coffee—another sign, a simple, no frills, regular coffee pot for Will to use when Hannibal wasn’t around to make it for him—and tried to figure out how things had gone so wrong after dinner last night that he’d intentionally drunk himself into a stupor.

After relieving his bladder—the main reason he’d woken so early—he returned to the kitchen and rinsed the empty bottle, placed it in the recycling bin, and took his coffee outside to try to think. At some point during the night he’d stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers, and the crisp air felt good on his skin and helped to clear the fog from his head. What was he doing? What was Hannibal getting from him? He closed his eyes as the first curves of the sun hit him, the fiery afterimage behind his lids, and took a deep sigh. Maybe he should ask Hannibal to teach him how to meditate, that might help. Will had no trouble _entering_ his own mind. It was _stilling_ it that always seemed to be the issue.

“Are you going to ask? Or should I just wait for you to snap fully?”

Hannibal's voice was calm, but the annoyance laced within the normally controlled tones wasn’t lost on Will. He slammed his coffee cup down with more force than he’d intended as he turned from the rail where he’d been trying to enjoy a peaceful sunrise.

“Really? That’s how we’re starting the day today?”

“Why start today any differently from how we ended yesterday?”

Will closed the few feet across the balcony to get right into Hannibal's face. Just like that, Will’s anger was alive and well, brought back to the surface with little more than a question.

“Why do you always have to have the last word?”

“Why can’t you say what you want? Accept it?”

Before he could stop himself, his arm pulled back and his fist collided with Hannibal’s jaw, rocking his head back into the stone of the doorway he leaned against.

“So it is snap, then?”

Will ignored him as he stormed for the bedroom.

“I’m going for a walk,” he growled, tugging on some clothes.

Hannibal stood in the middle of the apartment, rubbing his jaw as he watched Will.

“Will you be home for dinner?” he asked finally.

“Will I—? Of _course_, Hannibal. That’s twelve hours from now. Where the fuck do you think I’m going to _go_? Tahiti?”

He wandered the city and countryside for hours, not returning until nearly dinnertime out of spite—and having eaten a late lunch. Not eating Hannibal's food was the quickest way to offend and upset him, and while Hannibal thought Will was simply being stubborn, what he didn’t seem to understand was that if Will asked it just wouldn’t be the same.

Will knew he wanted Hannibal's anger. He wanted to push him, to see how far he’d go, how much he’d jeopardize their new home. How much he’d hurt Will before he stopped himself. Hannibal thought Will would ask. What he didn’t realize was that Will already _had_ asked. And this was part of how Will expected—_needed—_him to help_—_by letting Will push him until _Hannibal _snapped.

He was a good fisherman, after all.

That was what had led to Sogliato’s death—Hannibal trying to _help_ Will.

And now, a little over a month later, Will felt the pressure building inside him again. He wasn’t happy with himself for how he’d acted that night. He knew he could do better. Hannibal could do better. But he couldn’t figure out what the proper catalyst would be. His hand in Sogliato’s death had scratched an itch that had only festered, until it was an all-consuming drive within him. Will was restless, agitated. He was counting on Hannibal to know what he needed and as the days and weeks passed it was looking more and more like that wasn’t going to happen.

So it was with no small amount of surprise that he returned to hear voices in their kitchen. Hannibal, droning on about some random esoteric fact or another, and another man, one he didn’t recognize, the tone of his voice making his interest in Hannibal quite on display.

“Boris, really, you could be a famous chef, what are you doing here?” The man moaned as he tasted whatever was on the plate before him—Will couldn’t see it from his vantage point.

_Boris? Why is Hannibal using his old alias with this man? _No matter the reason, anger and jealousy surged hotly through his veins. Will flexed his hands a few times before he had himself under control enough to make his presence known.

“Watching Boris cook is akin to foreplay sometimes,” he announced as he crossed the room to Hannibal’s side. “Sorry I’m late.” Will set down the bottle of wine he’d brought home with him and met Hannibal's eyes as he looked up. He could feel the eyes of the unknown man watching their interaction closely. There were times when they couldn’t look more mismatched, and it was never worse than when Will was in clothes he’d picked for himself, his face dirty and flushed from sun and exertion.

Hannibal’s face, a mystery to so many others, was a mostly open book to Will by now, and he could see the excitement dancing in the depths of his amber eyes. He arched a single brow, and Hannibal’s lips curled into a small, private smile. Will felt an answering grin grow on his face.

“I’ll go get cleaned up,” he said, perhaps a bit breathier than he’d intended, as his anger quickly shifted to anticipation. This man, whoever he was—Will still hadn’t even _looked_ at the man’s face properly—he now understood was meant as a peace offering. Whether it was an offering from Hannibal to Will or vice versa remained to be seen. It was all up to Will, he saw that clearly. It all depended on how the night went.

If Will played this right, he could manage both.

Will trailed the tips of his fingers across Hannibal's lower back, sparing a glance at their guest as he passed through the kitchen.

“I’ll be back in moment.”

He took a quick shower to remove the dirt and sweat from his body, and emerged from the room in a pair of dress pants and a button down shirt. He chose to skip the tie and jacket, as Hannibal wore neither lately, more relaxed and casual than the stiff and formal persona he’d cultivated in Baltimore, but did pull on a vest to mirror the one Hannibal wore.

“Well, I dare say they’re not wrong when they say that the clothes make the man,” their guest said, openly eyeing Will up and down.

Will let out a soft chuckle as he accepted the glass of wine from Hannibal.

“I must admit, this is Boris’s influence. He has far better taste than I do.”

“You obviously have some sort of taste if you landed him.”

Will smiled wide at that.

“You have no idea,” he agreed.

“James has an overwhelming fondness for being outdoors and often spends hours roaming the countryside.” Hannibal's hand rested comfortably on the small of Will’s back as he joined them at the kitchen island.

“Well, James, you certainly do clean up well. Antony Dimmond,” the man said, extending his arm to shake Will’s hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Antony.”

“Are you feeling better after your day out?” Hannibal asked, squeezing Will’s shoulder warmly.

“A bit, yes,” he murmured, meeting Hannibal's gaze over the top of his glass as he took another swallow of wine.

“Dinner is ready, if you gentlemen would care to move to dining table.”

“Are you traveling alone, Antony?” Will asked as they walked the short distance.

“Yes, it’s the only way I travel! No schedule to keep except for my own, going wherever my whims take me. It’s far more relaxing.”

“I see,” Will answered, and stole a secret glance with Hannibal as he served Will. A few times a week, Hannibal made a special plate, almost an appetizer of sorts, which they occasionally shared, but tonight he placed it directly in front of Will.

“Oysters, acorns, and Marsala. That’s what the ancient Romans would feed animals to improve their flavor,” Antony commented. He gave Hannibal a knowing look as he took a drink. “Do you avoid meats, James?”

Will smirked.

“Boris has a very sophisticated palate. He’s very particular about how I taste.” He lifted a shell from the plate and tipped it to his lips, using his tongue to pull the meat into his mouth, and held eye contact with Antony as he swallowed.

Antony stared at Will a moment, mouth open slightly as he took a few breaths before he turned to look at Hannibal, who looked entirely and thoroughly amused by the situation, if the grin on his face was any indication. Antony turned back to Will.

“Is it that kind of party?” he asked softly, one eyebrow raised, excitement threading his voice.

Will looked to Hannibal, who still wore that ridiculous grin. Will had a difficult time keeping his own face neutral and not returning the smile as his heart raced in his chest.

“It could be,” Will said at last, returning his gaze to Antony with a slight grin, tipping another oyster to his lips, drawing Antony’s gaze. He watched as the man’s nostrils flared.

“Well,” he said, lifting his eyes to Will’s. “You two suddenly became even more fascinating.”

Will let himself smile wide, a soft chuckle escaping him.

“Do you know, Antony, that James told me, on one of our first meetings, that he didn’t find me very interesting.”

“How could you _not_?” Antony asked, incredulous.

“He was very stubborn,” Hannibal answered, leaning toward Antony as he spoke.

“And you enjoyed the challenge,” Will quipped.

“And now?” Antony asked.

“Now? I still enjoy challenging him.” Will winked at Antony, who laughed. “The fun part is never knowing which of us will win.” He held Hannibal's gaze over his wine once more.

“Who wins tonight?” There was no denying the desire lacing Antony’s voice.

“I don’t know yet.” Will glanced to Antony. “Maybe you. Maybe me.” He tipped his head towards Hannibal. “He tends to win most of the time. But I make him work for it.”

Antony swallowed hard, gaze flitting back and forth between them.

“Very fascinating indeed,” he murmured, taking a long drink. At last, he lifted his fork and began eating.

“Mmm, Boris, this is simply _divine_. What kind of meat is it? I’ve never had its like before.”

“Tongue,” Hannibal replied.

Will’s heart skipped a beat, and he involuntarily made a soft gasp. Antony didn’t hear it, as he continued to rave about Hannibal's cooking, but Hannibal caught it, if the knowing smile he wore while he filled Will’s wine was any indication.

He had a difficult time focusing on the conversation at hand, but Antony and Hannibal seemed quite content to carry on with only a minor interjection here and there from Will throughout the course of the meal.

Will helped Hannibal clear the table while Antony perused the bookshelves.

“This is a truly fascinating juxtaposition of topics. A book on fly tying next to Milton, next to a study on dissociative personality disorder...”

Will grinned at Antony’s amusement.

“Will,” Hannibal said softly at his side. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh,” Will interrupted. “This is my toy to play with. You wound me up, Hannibal. Now you get to watch me go.” He kept one eye on Antony in the other room and one on Hannibal.

Hannibal’s brows raised ever so slightly.

“And what grievous sin has he committed?”

Will cupped a hand over Hannibal's cheek and pulled him in for a chaste kiss.

“He thought he could have what is mine.” He pulled back and fixed Hannibal with a glare. “I wonder where he got that idea from?”

Will left Hannibal at the sink and brought two glasses and another bottle of wine to join Antony. Hannibal knew better than to leave Will alone with his own mind, yet he’d done just that at dinner. Will had watched the easy and open way the two had spoken, and his initial gut reaction of anger and jealousy had returned with force. _Always trust your gut_, Will thought. The resemblance between himself and Antony hadn’t gone unnoticed, and while it was possible that was merely a coincidence, Will didn’t think so.

“I am curious as how how you two met,” Antony began as he accepted the glass.

“Work,” Will shrugged.

Antony’s head tipped in confusion.

Will grinned.

“Many of the psychological journals and books are mine. I used to teach.”

“Used to?”

“You could say that I had a breakdown. He helped me through it. Things evolved from there.”

“And now?”

“Now...you could say I’m on sabbatical. Trying to decide if I want to return to teaching or do something else. In the meantime, I’m helping Boris spend all his money. Mostly on expensive alcohol,” Will joked as he refilled his wine and held the bottle out toward Antony.

“I see,” Antony laughed, before finishing his glass off and dutifully holding it out for more.

“And you? What is it that you do, which allows you to travel so freely?”

“Ahh, well. My passion is poetry. But that doesn’t exactly pay one’s bills, now does it? I teach the classics, Dante, that lot. In fact, Boris and I have a friend in common—Dr. Fell, do you know him? I was on my way to see Roman when I ran into Boris at the Capponi. We met by chance a few months back in Paris.”

“I don’t know as I’d call Roman my _friend,_ but I’ve made his acquaintance,” Will replied, glancing at Hannibal’s back as he prepared something in the kitchen for dessert. “We were only in Paris for a few days, I’m amazed you made enough of an impression on him as to be memorable.”

“Oh, I hadn’t expected him to remember me, after all, I look like the guy next door. But Boris here...his face is quite memorable.” Antony’s eyes are everywhere except on Hannibal’s face, and Will once again was forced to tamp down his anger.

“Yes, he’s quite difficult to forget, that’s for sure,” Will mumbled.

Antony turned back to Will with a grin, giving him the once-over again, noting the vest now hanging open.

“As are you, James. Tell me, do you gentlemen..._entertain_...often?”

Will laughed.

“Boris is quite fond of showing off his skill in the kitchen and we often have dinner guests.” He slowly closed the space between them as he spoke. The man wasn’t unattractive, and Will had come to terms with his apparent bisexuality enough that he wasn’t unwilling to initiate something with Antony, if only to see how far Hannibal was willing to let the game go.

“As far as _entertaining_ goes...well, most people don’t enjoy our kind of entertainment. So that happens far less often.” Will toyed with the end of the scarf hanging from Antony’s neck. He’d discarded his jacket but hadn’t yet lost the scarf or his vest.

“Shame. They don’t know what they’re missing.” Antony’s pupils were dilated, his desire clear. Will gathered both ends of the scarf in his hand, crushing the silk, and pulled Antony in. His lips were softer, fuller than Hannibal’s, his scent decidedly more feminine than Hannibal's as well. The stark difference made it easier. Will had been worried they’d be too similar and that he’d get confused, lose track of what he wanted to do to which body.

Heat enveloped him as Hannibal came up behind him and slid a hand between Antony and Will, stroking over Will’s growing erection, and Will suddenly was concerned about his own sensory overload. He knew Hannibal would be the ultimate winner here tonight, but he’d be damned if he’d let things go Hannibal's way. This was _his_ show now, not Hannibal’s. Will rolled his hips forward, pushing the back of Hannibal's hand into Antony’s crotch, eliciting a moan from the other man.

“You two certainly waste no time,” he gasped, pulling back as far as Will’s grip would allow.

“Why hesitate when you know what you want?” Hannibal asked, nipping at Will’s neck.

“Why indeed?”

Antony reached an arm forward and caught the back of Hannibal's head, pulling him forward and kissing him over Will’s shoulder, pushing their bodies together.

Will ignored the hidden message in Hannibal's words and refocused on Antony. As he and Hannibal kissed, Will slid out from between them, forcing Hannibal into the kiss fully. Once behind Antony, Will began to unbutton the man’s vest while kissing along his neck. A groan came from him and Will smiled. Hannibal glared at him over Antony’s shoulder and Will simply raised his brows in an expression of innocence, which seemed to only anger Hannibal further. He reached between the men and with one hand, stroked gently over Antony’s cock. With his other hand, Will grabbed onto Hannibal and squeezed tightly until Hannibal hissed.

“Come, Antony,” Will said, tugging Antony’s hand as he backed away. “We have far too many clothes on.” He let his hand drop and began unbuttoning his shirt as he moved in the direction of the bedroom.

“Well, I certainly can’t argue with that,” he said, following along.

Will deliberately dropped items as he went—his vest, his shirt, and belt—and watched with no small amount of glee as Antony did the same, forcing Hannibal to navigate a mess of discarded clothing.

“What happened here?” Antony asked, genuine shock on his face as his fingers traced the scar on Will’s shoulder.

“Oh, that. I had a brief career as a police officer. I had a hard time shooting back, which is how I ended up with this. So I left the force.” Will shrugged, lying easily. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Hmm, their loss, my gain,” Antony said, pressing a kiss to the wound as Hannibal arrived with an armful of clothing.

“You too,” Will said, pulling Hannibal close. “I think it’s high time you took your clothes off as well.” He clung to Hannibal tightly, kissing him hard.

“What are you doing?” Hannibal whispered in his ear as Will tugged at his shirt.

“Trust me,” Will answered with his own whisper. “I love you,” he said, drawing back and meeting Hannibal's gaze.

“Your gain indeed, Antony,” Will said, returning his attention to the other man in the room. “I must say, nobody has ever hinted at this kind of party so early in the evening. It usually takes them much longer to catch on.”

“I have no delusions about morality,” Antony replied, tangling his hands in Will’s hair as Will leaned in to kiss him once more, guiding him to the bed. “We can twist ourselves into all manner of uncomfortable positions, just to maintain appearances.”

“Is that what you are here to do? Twist us into uncomfortable positions?” Hannibal asked from the edge of the bed as Will kissed a path down Antony’s stomach, pausing to tug his pants down.

“On the contrary,” Antony said, pulling Hannibal close. “I’m here to help you untwist. To our mutual benefit.”

“Mmm, I must thank you for this, Boris. It has been a while since we’ve had such an..._entertaining _guest.”

Antony gasped as Will wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking him as he rose to kiss Hannibal deeply. He knew what he wanted to do, how to do it...now he just needed to get them where he wanted. Will coaxed Hannibal to the bed, to lay next to Antony, and worked Hannibal's pants open with his free hand. Hannibal allowed him to do so, and helped Will push his pants off completely. He quickly bent over, taking Hannibal in his mouth as he continued to stroke Antony.

Hannibal groaned, and Will felt Antony shift. When he looked up, the two men were kissing.

Despite his jealousy and anger at the man—both men—in his bed, Will had to acknowledge the situation was incredibly arousing. As if feeling his eyes on them, Antony broke the kiss and looked down to Will.

“Come now, James, this is hardly fair. You still have your pants on.”

With a grin, he rose from Hannibal and caught Antony in a kiss.

“Sweet Christ, you do taste amazing, I have to admit,” Antony moaned.

Will laughed as he stood and Antony took his place between Hannibal's legs, much to Will’s delight. He positioned himself behind Antony, bottle of lube in hand.

“I’m afraid that we don’t have any condoms, as this was an unplanned occurrence. But I assure you, we can still make it worth your time,” Will said as he slicked up two fingers. “Although, considering your eagerness to swallow his cock, it would appear that you don’t care about that, now do you?”

Antony moaned something unintelligible around a mouthful of Hannibal, but it certainly didn’t sound as though he was contradicting Will as he pushed his fingers inside. The look on Hannibal's face was murderous, which amused Will to no end. _You started this, and now you can deal with the results of your actions_, Will thought. Instead, he worked a third finger inside Antony, who soon became unable to focus on what he was doing to Hannibal as Will’s ministrations increased.

With gentle pressure, he guided Antony up until he was straddling Hannibal's hips. He grabbed the lube and slicked up Hannibal’s cock, one hand holding him steady as his other hand, on Antony’s hip, pulled him down until the man was seated on his lover’s cock.

The sight was intoxicating. _He_ had done this. _He _had manipulated the evening, manipulated _Hannibal_, into this, into fucking another man. Whatever Hannibal's intentions had been with Antony, whatever the reasons he’d brought him home and made dinner for him instead of killing him outright, Will was confident that he’d never planned for _this._

The power was overwhelming.

With more lube on his fingers, Will reached down between Hannibal's legs and teased at Hannibal's hole. He tightened around Will, trying to push him out, but Will persisted, driving two fingers into him. Hannibal had nowhere to go to get away without dislodging Antony, who mistook Hannibal's hiss and the movement of his hips for pleasure instead of the pain that Will had made them.

“My God, James, you are one lucky man,” Antony gasped as he began to move, riding Hannibal's cock.

Will hummed his agreement as he pressed a kiss to Antony’s back. He slicked his own cock with his free hand and slid in closer to the two, guiding Hannibal's legs up over his thighs and around his waist. Gently, Will tipped Antony forward so that he could open Hannibal up further. Hannibal clenched around Will’s fingers, fighting the intrusion until Will twisted his hand, curling his fingers and finding Hannibal's prostate. Hannibal relaxed involuntarily, hips jerking up and driving him into Antony. Will quickly replaced his fingers with his cock and thrust into Hannibal, whose eyes widened.

Will almost laughed at what he’d accomplished.

He’d just made Hannibal the middle of this bizarre situation, with no easy way out of it.

Will squeezed Hannibal's legs tightly, hard enough to bruise, and dug his nails in, until the man finally loosened up enough to let Will fuck him.

It was the first time they’d done this, it was _always _Hannibal fucking Will, and he wasn’t enjoying himself in the least from what Will could tell—though his cock remained hard and in Antony’s ass, so _something_ was working for him—but Will didn’t care. Hannibal could suffer for what he wanted from Will.

Between them, Antony writhed and moaned. Will brought his arms up to circle Antony’s waist and pull him up, bringing his back snug against Will’s chest. Antony’s arms fluttered before settling on Hannibal's legs for balance. Will turned Antony’s head to kiss him briefly, the angle making it difficult, but the whole point was to keep Antony distracted, overwhelmed. Will’s hands roamed Antony’s body, caressing, teasing, as Hannibal fucked into him. The room was filled with the smell of skin and sweat, the sounds of heavy breathing and gasps and moans as they all worked themselves towards different ends.

Hannibal's hand brushed over Will’s and Will turned his to catch it, lacing their fingers together. He held Hannibal's gaze over Antony’s shoulder as he brought his free hand up to caress Antony’s throat, wrapping around it teasingly. Hannibal's eyes widened a fraction and Will smirked.

He moved his hands to Hannibal's hips to hold him steady, and fucked into Hannibal while Antony worked himself on Hannibal's cock. Will paid close attention to the sounds coming from Antony, with a complete disregard for Hannibal's pleasure. This was _not_ about Hannibal, this was about _Will _and what he wanted, what he’d do with the gift Hannibal had given him.

When he thought it was time, Will’s hands came around Antony’s body once more and he held him close again, this time slipping one hand down to wrap around his cock as the other worked up his chest. He felt Antony’s body tremble, breaths coming rapid and shallow as his orgasm drew near. Will stroked him in time with the roll of his hips, pulling up as Antony worked down on Hannibal, twisting his way back down as Antony came up. Will’s face was pressed close against Antony’s, cheek to cheek, his other hand slowly increasing the pressure on his throat.

“James,” he gasped, one hand coming up to rest over Will’s wrist, the first complaint about the pressure. Will loosened his grip a fraction and Antony drew in a breath—still not a deep one, though, Will couldn’t allow that—and came, spilling over Will’s hand and coating Hannibal's stomach. He exhaled heavily, and Will tightened his hand again, with force, not letting up at the sounds of protest from Antony.

Will leaned back, tipping Antony’s neck at an angle, drawing his other arm up and around Antony’s head, grabbing on and giving a sharp twist. Distantly, he was aware of Hannibal's ass clenching around him, the sound of Hannibal’s gasp. Will’s chest heaved as he sucked in air, adrenaline coursing through his body like napalm burning him from the inside out, consuming him, incinerating him, leaving him to be reborn from the ashes.

And reborn he was.

He pushed Antony’s now lifeless body to the side, dislodging him from Hannibal—probably painfully for Hannibal, and Will hoped it was—and shoved him to the floor as he leaned forward over Hannibal. Will was still hard inside him—impossibly, painfully hard—and he began to fuck Hannibal with abandon, folding the man’s legs up until he was bent nearly in half. His hand once more wrapped around a throat, this time Hannibal's, except the face above it was smiling, pleased beyond measure at the violence being inflicted upon his body.

“If you think I’m helping with that, you’re wrong,” Will growled as he thrust furiously into Hannibal. “That’s _your_ mess.” He flexed his fingers, tightening them, hard enough to leave bruises, to remind Hannibal when he looked in the mirror tomorrow, but not long enough to make him pass out.

“Yes,” Hannibal gasped, and Will couldn’t tell if it was in agreement with what he’d said or a sound of pleasure, but it didn’t matter because Will’s orgasm crashed over him and he came hard, trembling as he unloaded inside Hannibal.

Will withdrew from Hannibal and stood over Antony’s body on shaky legs as he caught his breath.

“_La petite mort_ indeed,” he murmured. He shifted his eyes to Hannibal, unmoved from his position on the bed, come drying on his stomach and leaking from his ass, his own cock still fat and flushed and unrelieved.

“I want his heart,” he stated flatly before calmly walking out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Will stood in the shower trembling, no longer concerned about needing to hide his reaction from Hannibal. He stayed under the cold water until he hurt, unable to discern if the shakes were from adrenaline or the numbness spreading through his extremities. Wrapped in the ridiculous oversized hooded robe he’d conned Hannibal into buying him, he took a bottle of whisky out to the balcony with him.

He ignored Hannibal completely as he passed him, busy changing the sheets on the bed. Antony’s body had disappeared from the floor, along with his clothing, and his bag near the front door—anything that might indicate he’d been there. Interestingly, Hannibal remained naked and hadn’t pulled any clothes on for this. Will noted Antony’s dried come still smeared across Hannibal's belly, and the tracks down the inside of his legs. Will had marked him, and Hannibal was wearing it proudly.

An odd sense of calm permeated him as he reclined on the lounge, sipping absently at the glass in his hand and staring out at the city below them. He wasn’t numb, not like when he’d killed Garret Jacob Hobbs. If anything, he felt...whole.

Eventually, Hannibal joined him. He sat silently to the side of Will in one of the chairs, watching him, trying to assess and gauge Will’s mental state. He could positively _feel_ the need for Hannibal to speak, and knew it was with great restraint that the man sat there mutely, waiting for a clue, anything that would point him in the direction of Will’s thoughts. Will fought the smirk that threatened to give away his feelings, and hid it behind another sip.

“I wonder, if meat can be bitter about being dead, how will it taste when it dies while in the throes of pleasure?”

A startled noise came from Hannibal. Clearly, that hadn’t been what he’d been expecting from Will’s lips in greeting.

“The next time you bring home a substitute for me, the results won’t be so cordial.” He turned an angry glare on Hannibal. To his credit, he did not look chastised or remorseful. If anything, Will would say that he looked _caught_. Will’s reaction may not have been as emotional, as immediate, if Antony hadn’t looked like him, and he knew it had been calculated on Hannibal's part—the look on his face all but confirmed that. It didn’t make Will like it any better, though.

“Have I lost you, Will? Did I err in my decision making?”

He smoothed a hand over the fabric of his robe, staring down at the simple blue plush terrycloth made of Egyptian cotton, a far cry from the silk-lined cashmere robe Hannibal wore. Will had adapted many of his choices and preferences over his time with Hannibal, but he still preferred to snuggle in the comfort of thick cotton. He did just that now, tugging the hood around his head as he settled back into the cushion with a contented sigh.

“We should do that again, though,” he mused. “Especially if it makes them taste better. That was a lot of fun. Did you have fun? I had fun. Maybe a woman every now and then if we can manage it. Men are more trusting. It’d be harder to convince a woman traveling to come home with you alone these days.”

“Will,” Hannibal gasped, falling to his knees beside Will’s seat. Will cocked open one eye, brow raised.

“What? I feel great. Don’t you? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Didn’t I do exactly what you desired? I’m sorry to disappoint you if you’d anticipated more of a struggle afterwards.”

“Why _aren’t_ you struggling?” Hannibal finally asked, voice hushed, and Will thought he detected a hint of incredulity.

Will sighed and took another drink. While he enjoyed making Hannibal unstable, uncertain of the ground they stood on, it wasn’t a good look on Hannibal and eventually Will took pity on him and beckoned him up.

“My biggest regret with Sogliato was that I hadn’t shoved the pick into his skull myself,” he said, looking up at Hannibal as he straddled Will’s lap. “But I didn’t know what kind of push I needed to make that final leap. Apparently, jealousy and anger worked really well.” Will shrugged, paused for another drink as he gathered his thoughts. “In some part of my brain, I feel like I should be screaming, appalled at what I did, disgusted and ashamed by how I feel right now. But I don’t. You were right. It’s terrifying in its beauty, this feeling.”

“As were you, Will. Terrifying in your beauty as you ended his life, as you claimed me, as you woke from your slumber.”

Will’s eyes slid over the mark on Hannibal's neck, Will’s hand print there, the lines where his fingers had dug in already red and angry. Heat suffused him as he remembered how it had felt to hold Hannibal's life in his hand, and tightened that same hand over Hannibal's thigh in response.

“Your feelings and actions have strong emotional bonds to each other. You are far more open with your reactions, my complement and yet my opposite in every way. You challenge me in a way that no other has. I am ashamed to admit that the solution eluded me for far longer than I’d have liked. But do not doubt, Will, that I am anything less than pleased with the results.”

Hannibal's robe slipped open as he shifted, and Will noticed absently that he was still naked, though he’d showered. And also growing hard again. It had been intentionally done, leaving Hannibal without a release. A reminder that he wasn’t in charge, that it had been all about Will’s wants and desires.

“If it was possible for me to love you more than I already do, it would have been in that moment.”

Will shuddered and slid his hand up to wrap around Hannibal's shaft, stroking slowly, with gentle, teasing movements that had no clear goal other than the contact of flesh on flesh.

“How did it feel?” Will asked, voice hushed. “How did it feel, to watch me snap his neck? To see me kill him?”

Hannibal groaned in response, his cock pulsing and growing harder in Will’s grasp.

“You were beautiful,” Hannibal said repeating his earlier sentiment. “The feeling was indescribable. Joy, elation, pride, lust, love...if I had to pinpoint one emotion I would find myself hard put to choose a dominant one. You have always inspired several overlapping feelings within me, Will. Some I can understand, some I have a difficult time processing.”

“Which one is the most difficult for you to reconcile?”

“Love,” Hannibal replied without hesitation. “The depths and pure unconditional nature of my love for you overwhelm me.” Hannibal’s hips rocked slowly, almost unconsciously, as he spoke, seeking more friction against Will’s hips and in his hand.

“No fear? No concern for what you have made me into?”

“You have made yourself, Will. I simply provided the acceptance of your nature that allowed it to flourish.”

Will slid a hand up the front of Hannibal's robe and pulled him close. A soft moan escaped Hannibal when their lips met.

“I feared I had lost you,” he whispered.

“I lost myself,” Will replied. “The person I found...I haven’t ever met him. He was always just out of reach, whispering to me from the shadows.”

“And how does it feel, knowing this man?”

“Like knowing the Devil.”

“And is that so terrible a thing?”

Hannibal's breath came in pants and gasps, his words soft and slurred, as Will continued to work him.

“No,” Will admitted, tangling his fingers in the hair at the back of Hannibal's head. “It feels like coming home.”

“Will!” Hannibal cried, hands tightening their grip on his shoulders.

“It feels like you, Hannibal. And I have never known myself as well as I do when I’m with you.”

Hannibal came with a stuttered cry, his face buried in Will’s shoulder.

*****

It was odd, this feeling of power within Will.

Mostly, it slept, contented and calm.

When it woke...it amazed him the way Hannibal would become putty in Will’s hands. It only took a look, and they’d be on a train at a moment’s notice, off to some distant city. Will would sate himself. Hannibal would create a fitting display, celebrating Will’s accomplishments.

And then, on the way back, if it could be arranged, Will would fuck Hannibal without mercy, until he’d collapse, senseless and spent, curled in Hannibal's arms.

“My beautiful boy,” Hannibal murmured, smoothing Will’s hair back after one such session.

The gentle motion of the train, combined with the endorphins and the warmth of Hannibal's embrace, would bring Will back to himself while he slept.

“Hannibal?”

“Yes, Will?”

Will dredged up the energy to pull his head from Hannibal's chest enough to meet the other man’s gaze.

“Let’s get married.”

Hannibal studied Will for a moment, as if trying to decide Will’s intention. Will sat up and straddled Hannibal, wanting him to see that he was fully awake and fully cognizant of his words.

“I’m serious. This isn’t a joke. The other day, Freddie called us ‘murder husbands’ on her blog and yeah, it gave me a good laugh at first, but then...it felt right. And I wondered, why not? I mean...let’s be honest. We’ve given ‘’til death do us a part’ an entirely new meaning. One day we’ll either kill each other, or one of us will make a grave miscalculation and die at the hands of a target. Shit, maybe eventually the FBI will catch up with us. The point is, neither of us will be leaving the other willingly. We occasionally call each other husband when we _travel_, and...I want to make it official.”

By the time he finished, Will’s heart was racing and he was terrified that Hannibal would think it’s a stupid idea. After making Hannibal wait for him for so long, it is entirely possible—and not necessarily undeserved—that the man would think Will is crazy.

Hannibal lifted a hand to Will’s cheek, rubbed his thumb over the edge of the beard Will had grown. His dark eyes remained unreadable, and Will accepted that if this was the moment he died, at least it would be at Hannibal's hands and not another’s.

“_Mano meilė_, nothing would please me more,” Hannibal said at last, voice rough with barely contained emotion.

Will exhaled heavily, letting go of the breath he’d been holding as he waited.

“My biggest regret is that I cannot give you my name,” Hannibal added, a hint of sadness in his eyes. Will turned his face into Hannibal's hand and kissed his palm.

“I know. We will find our own way to consummate our union, though, won’t we? One more...suited to our _tastes_. In the meantime, I will proudly wear whatever name you wish to give me, _mano meilė_.”

Hannibal rolled them on the small bed and kissed Will tenderly.

“Then I shall endeavor to find a way to make you William Lecter,” he said. “Even if only in private.”

Will smiled.

“That would be perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on tumblr!
> 
> <https://hanitrash.tumblr.com/>
> 
> also, check out my published stuff? pretty please?
> 
> [https://www.amazon.com/Loralynne-Summers/](https://www.amazon.com/Loralynne-Summers/e/B00RC8DGGS?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1577730376&sr=8-1)


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